


Did You Do the Dishes?

by Midnight_Disasters



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Crying, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28231989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Disasters/pseuds/Midnight_Disasters
Summary: Dave jumps through dubiously healthy hoops in order to feel worthy. Bro sets him straight.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dave Strider
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Did You Do the Dishes?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMockingCrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/gifts).



Sometimes, Dave just feels like a bum. Or at the very least, an incredibly lame freeloader. Officially, he hasn’t gotten a regular job post-college so that he can build up his portfolio. It isn’t like they need the money; they haven’t been strapped for cash since Bro’s various internet businesses took off. He kept working his side hustles and saving or investing most of his income, so now even at their modest lifestyle of having a working stove, a comfortable couch and an affinity for wasting money on takeout, the Strider household is in a good place. It’s not about contributing.    
  
Dave knows on a logical level that Bro supports his interests. That much is clear; he paid for Dave to go to university for photography so he didn’t need to work through school, he’s encouraging Dave to spend his time on photography now even if he doesn’t make any money from it, and he hasn’t pressured him to get something part time. Dave gets gigs, occasionally. He’s got a website, and he’s shot a few weddings and done some amateur food photography since graduating, but it’s not a consistent stream of income and it’s far from Dave’s idea of what success looks like. His issue isn’t even that his career hasn’t taken off. He knows he’s got a talent for it, and that these things take time, even if you’ve got a supportive situation to grow in. His problem is much more...personal in nature.    
  
Mostly, he worries about what Bro sees in him now. It’s been awhile since the nature of their relationship changed, and there’s certainly no expectation that Dave’s ever gonna move out  _ now _ , but a certain amount of doubt needles in the back of Dave’s mind. He’s almost 24 now, he’s not a kid anymore, the new dynamic between the two of them is what keeps them together, at least to this extent. And what is Dave really bringing to the table here? He’s not successful, and his attempt to make his portfolio worth half a shit takes up a lot of his time, so he’s not even a good pseudo-housewife. When Bro gets home from one of his shifts at a side hustle, it always feels like he’s caught Dave with his pants down, and not in a fun way.    
  
“‘M back. Did’ja do the dishes?” He calls from the entryway. It’s a sentence that has Dave snapping out of the intense focus he’d trained on his computer screen. No, of course he didn’t do the dishes, because he’d spent all day travelling around the city trying to find something good to shoot, and then all evening pouring all his efforts into editing the photos he’d taken, which always seemed endless by that point in the night. But instead of feeling annoyed at the question, or pity towards himself for not having the time, he just feels guilty. All his life, Bro has juggled multiple jobs and still does, and somehow Dave can’t even do the dishes.    
  
“Uh, the dishes are trying a new style, Bro. It’s en vogue these days to eat off a plate with the essence of leftovers on it. Try to stay cultured,” Dave says, his voice light even as he feels fucking terrible that he didn’t think to wash the dishes before he left, or even before he started trying to edit all the garbage he took.    
  
“Sure,” Bro snorts. “Well it’s cool, I got it.” And that’s the worst part, because Bro always tells him it’s cool and just does it himself, even after working all day at a job that’s undoubtedly much harder than Dave’s sorry ass funemployment. It makes him want to jump up and say ‘no, I should have done it, let me’, but that feels too much like defeat. A small, stupid part of Dave’s brain genuinely thinks that if he just doesn’t draw attention to what a useless piece of shit he’s being, then maybe Bro won’t notice and dump him or throw him out. 

When he first started thinking these things, he’d thought maybe he could ‘earn his keep’, so to speak, with sex appeal. Surely it couldn’t be argued that he wasn’t valuable to Bro if he was the secret sauce that made his bed rock. And at first, it made him feel better to surprise Bro with various things, like getting naked and fingering himself open while Bro showered, or stuffing a toy in his ass and waiting until Bro got home, or waking him up with a morning blowjob. As time went on though, and his lack of a steady job or ability to help around the house made him feel worse, his feelings of attractiveness suffered as well. How could Bro focus on some cutesy little grab for his attention when he had to pull all the weight of keeping their household together on his own? What’s sexy about a skinny guy who can’t even do the dishes on time?    
  
Dave doesn’t exactly regret spending time doing what he loves, and he does love photography, but every day it’s that much harder not to feel like there must be something wrong with him.    
  
At a certain point, Dave stops initiating sex altogether. He’s not quite as chatty when Bro gets home, and he spends more and more of his weekends out of the house. At least if he leans into it, and pours all his time and energy into photography, he might finally have something to show for it when everything is said and done. He becomes singular on that one focus, until he’s not even home often enough to be around when Bro gets in. His life becomes a cycle of taking pictures, editing, searching for any amateur gallery that’ll take him, and posting ads for his services for events.    
  
To an extent, it works. He’s never been this aggressive before, preferring to take things at his own pace. Now he’s waking up before the sun and crawling into bed after Bro has gone to sleep. But he’s getting jobs. His website gets more traffic, his portfolio is of the highest technical quality it’s ever been, if not a little less inspired, and he’s getting an almost reliable stream of small jobs. It’s killing him, but it’s working.    
  
Dave’s never been so exhausted in his life.   
  
He tells himself it’s a no risk no reward situation, reminds himself every day that this is something he enjoys, and something that’ll make Bro proud of him again. It finally feels like a valid reason for his shitty behaviour, even if it means he’s tired all the time now, and rarely ever sees Bro while he’s conscious. Dave tells himself it’s going to be worth it, and he has to believe in that. He has to.    
  
Bro doesn’t comment, like Dave knew he wouldn’t. Dave knows deep down that it’s his way of being supportive, just like all the other times he didn’t complain when he should have. Somewhere in Dave’s tired mind though, he thinks he would have liked if Bro was at least a little lonely, and asked if he’d stay home more. It might have felt nice to hear that.    
  
Dave runs himself ragged for months. It’s unsustainable, but the universe hasn’t struck him down yet, so he keeps pushing. He draws down deep into that grind he thinks must be in their blood, the kind of determination that allowed a broke teenager to raise his younger brother. Dave’s purpose might not be that selfless, but his bones ache with the stress. He is rewarded though, when a decently well known gallery asks him to submit some of his work for an upcoming event. He nearly passes out from the shock.    
  
When he does end up passing out, it’s for entirely different reasons.    
  
Dave knows he hasn’t been taking care of himself, his self imposed work sprint leaving him with very little sleep each night and fucked up eating habits. Still, he imagined he was made of tougher stuff. That line of logic proves him wrong the morning he falls asleep in the shower and has a bad fall.    
  
He’d woken up at his usual 5 am, carefully extricating himself from bed so as not to wake Bro up. It’s easier these days, since they don’t fall asleep spooning anymore, it’s rare to find himself in a tangle of limbs when his alarm goes off. He’d gone, zombie-like, to the bathroom, not even bothering to look at himself in the mirror before stripping his clothes and turning on the hot water. Cold might have woken him up, but Dave likes it hot. He likes to just stand in the spray and let its heat convince him that leaving his warm bed wasn’t such a bad move. That morning though, as he stood under the spray, swaying slightly on his feet while the warmth washed over him, he let the comfort envelop him a little too much. He fell asleep standing, and it wasn’t long before his legs decided they’d had enough and sent him toppling over, taking the shower curtain with him.    
  
Bro runs into the bathroom as soon as he hears the loud thud, and once the shower curtain is out of the way there are warm hands on Dave’s face, checking for injury. It’s difficult to answer Bro’s murmured questions through Dave’s haze of confusion. Why was he on the floor? Was he asleep? Why would he be sleeping in the bathroom? When Bro determines there’s no real damage, he turns off the still running water and helps Dave sit up and dry off. Bro carries him to the bedroom and after having confirmed Dave isn’t concussed, gently encourages him to go back to bed. This seems like a great idea to a still tired, confused Dave, so he shuts his eyes.    
  
When he wakes up, it’s almost noon.   
  
Dave opens his eyes to a fully dressed Bro perched on the edge of their bed. He’s sans-shades looking seriously at Dave, which is not a good sign. It takes longer than it should for Dave to run through the possibilities of what he could have done wrong in his head.   
  
“What’s this about, then?” Bro asks, and Dave frowns.    
  
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“The hell you don’t, Dave. You fuckin’ passed out in the shower, you’re gettin’ maybe four hours of sleep a day, and I can’t tell if you’re eating at all when you’re out of the house. I’ve barely seen you for God knows how many weeks, and the first time you sleep in, it’s because you fuckin’ collapsed. What the fuck is goin’ on?”    
  
Dave opens his mouth and closes it again. The confrontation he didn’t think would come is happening, and he’s in bed, naked. “I…” He starts, but there’s no excuse behind it, because what could he tell Bro? How could he say he feels like a failure, or that he doesn’t feel sexy anymore, or that he didn’t think Bro missed him? So instead, he takes a low blow. “I thought you wanted me to go after my dreams and shit.” It’s cheap, and somewhat cruel, but it’s all he’s got.    
  
“You think I’d want you to hurt yourself? Dave, what the actual fuck? You need to eat and you need to fuckin’ sleep. You don’t wanna hang out here anymore, that’s fine, but y’ain’t gonna kill yourself workin’ right under my goddamn nose.”    
  
Dave coughs, because he’s at a loss. “If you wanted me to move out that badly, you could have just said.” 

He sees the tension in the set of Bro’s jaw when he says that, and even though he knows he’s fucking this up, it gives him some kind of perverse joy that Bro does want him to stay, that this is getting under his skin. But then it’s gone, and Dave gets the distinct feeling Bro is looking right through him. He feels like he’s hollow, transparent, and stupid.    
  
Instead of lashing back at him, Bro stands, and for a moment Dave feels a spike of fear in his chest that he’s about to get kicked out. What happens instead, is Bro closing the bedroom door. He approaches the bed again, and Dave doesn’t know what to expect. He watches as Bro pulls off his gloves and sets them on the side of the bed. 

The apprehension doesn’t go away, especially now that Bro seems to have some sort of purpose about him. Dave feels...weirdly on display in a way that extends past his state of undress.    
  
Bro gestures for Dave to come closer, so he crawls out from under the covers, mindful of his nudity and gingerly sits next to Bro. Before Dave can really process what’s going on, Bro has him bent over his lap with fast hands and strong arms. Dave immediately squirms but there’s a lightning quick hand on the back of his neck that has him stilling.    
  


“You don’t wanna tell me what’s up? That’s fine. Let me know when y’feel like talkin’.”    
  
And even though he’s expecting it, the hand that comes down on the bare skin of Dave’s ass is still enough to have him jerking forward against Bro’s legs. It’s not the first time this has happened, and Dave knows how this ends. Even still, he resolutely presses his lips closed and does his best to take the hits in silence.    
  
The real insidious thing about the way Bro spanks him is the calculated irregularity. Dave knows he’s doing it on purpose, but the way he brings his hand down makes it impossible for Dave to anticipate the next hit. When he can’t prepare himself, his hot skin quickly goes from warm to stinging to burning to outright on fire. Bro’s barely 16 hits deep when Dave can’t keep his yelps in anymore, crying out with every slap. Dave can feel his resolve slipping as the pain moves into an almost unmanageable territory.    
  
He starts crying on the 25th blow. He doesn’t actively know what number Bro’s on by the time it comes, but he knows he’s done for. The sniffling turns into tears clouding his eyes, which makes way for soft wet streaks running down his face. His breathing is stuttering and hitched when the hand on his ass starts moving in slow circles across his skin. Dave moves a hand to tug on the bottom of Bro’s shirt and then he’s being hoisted upright on Bro’s lap. Dave wraps his arms around Bro’s neck and they both stay quiet and let Dave cry for a while, Bro’s hand stroking his back.    
  
When the tears and sobs fade to steady breathing and wet eyes, Dave leans back and Bro looks him in the face. There’s no barriers between them now, so Dave starts talking.    
  
“...It’s stupid and I know it is-- but,” Dave pauses to sniff once. “I was feeling bad about not helping out more, ‘cuz I’d be out all day. But so were you, and I didn’t even do the dishes, so I thought what kind of freeloader can’t even do the dishes? And I couldn’t even say ‘well hey I’m busy being a sick ass photographer’ because I wasn’t, really. And then I thought maybe I could just do the other shit housewives do and like, suck your dick, but then I stopped feeling hot because of the dishes thing. Turns out household chores are a real buzz kill, who knew?” Dave talks like he can’t control his mouth, like the words are forcing themselves out on their own. Bro’s face gives nothing away, so he continues.    
  
“So I thought, why not plan A? I could just  _ be _ a sick ass photographer, and then I’d have a good excuse for all that stuff and we’d be cool. So I started working more, and trying harder, and that took even more time, and jesus christ I was so tired, but I wanted to be good, yknow? You’re good at so much shit I thought maybe I’ve got some of that mojo. But then...well I guess I don’t have to tell _ you _ , huh?”   
  
The silence following Dave’s explanation hangs in the air between them. It feels heavy, and Dave doesn’t know what to think. On the one hand, it feels good to get it off his chest, but on the other, now Bro knows everything. He could think it’s bullshit, or stupid, or agree with Dave’s shitty thought process. Dave’s tense while he waits, searching Bro’s face for a sign, even a small one. The hand on his back never stops gently moving across his skin. 

“This...our relationship ain’t transactional,” is what Bro pitches with, and Dave might have flinched if he were less good at concealing how things affect him. It’s not so much that it’s offensive or hurtful, but the idea that the way Dave was framing their relationship was something transactional...it doesn’t feel great.    
  
“I don’t ‘keep you around’ because you’re an extra set’a hands, or because I want t’fuck you. Whether or not you’re makin’ money at photography ain’t gonna change how I feel about you. You know I--” Bro frowns. “Nah, okay, fuck that, we’ve got our big boy pants on. I love you, Dave, I love the shit outta you and you don’t have’ta bend over backwards for that to keep happening. I know you’re busy, and I wasn’t upset about the fuckin’ dishes. C’mon,” He says, and Dave just squeezes him tighter.   
  
They let the words sit, holding each other in a quiet acceptance. For them, the exchange had been a monumental show of both honesty and affection, the likes of which are typically reserved for birthdays and holidays on leap years when the moon is full. Dave feels raw, but he also feels comforted. This whole stunt was rooted in striving for Bro’s approval, even if Dave couldn’t say it, and as it turns out, he has it. He figures the experience wasn’t a total wash, he came out of it with an invite to showcase his work in a gallery. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Dave has the sudden realisation that he hasn’t been home often enough to tell Bro.   
  
“Dude. Shit, I forgot to say, but I got a gallery to ask for me,” Dave says, pushing against Bro’s shoulder.    
  
“No shit?”    
  
“You’ll come right?”    
  
Bro actually snorts at the question. “Did’ja listen to a fuckin’ word I said? Hell yeah I’m comin’.” Dave leans down to mouth at Bro’s neck instead of communicating with words. Bro catches the drift. His hands continue to rub Dave’s back though, and when one drops too low Dave hisses and remembers why that is. His ass, while not stinging with pain anymore, is still pretty raw from being so freshly spanked.    
  
“Chinese tonight?” Dave feels the question as Bro asks it and moves from lazily kissing his throat up to nibble his ear.    
  
“I could eat,” He murmurs, licking a stripe around the shell of Bro’s ear.    
  
“I’m tryna’ be nice,” Bro warns, cupping a hand over Dave’s sore ass. Dave thinks he does a good job at not twitching. The hand tightens when Dave grazes the ear with his teeth.    
  
“There’s other things I can do besides that.” His voice is quiet but purposeful. “It’s been so long Bro, let me show you a good time.” Dave slides from his perch on Bro’s lap down to the floor, gingerly adjusting his kneeling position so as not to cause himself pain. He looks suggestively at Bro’s lap and then up at his face, raising a brow.    
  
Bro shrugs, but reaches forward to undo his fly and push his pants to his knees. Dave smirks and leans forward, watching Bro’s cock spring free from his boxers. It’s just a semi, but Dave takes it as a compliment nonetheless as he licks a stripe up from base to tip. The physicality of it is what really makes their time apart dawn on Dave, and he’s filled with an intense feeling of longing. How many nights has he missed being in Bro’s arms over this bullshit? He sets to his task with renewed vigor, determined to make Bro want this just as badly. 

When Dave’s got Bro up to full hardness, he takes the tip into his mouth and lets himself sink down over it. His mouth is warm and hot and ready for it as he runs the flat of his tongue over Bro’s salty skin. He’s always liked the feeling of sucking Bro off, the mindlessness of it. He doesn’t even try to touch himself through it, all his focus on Bro’s experience. He doesn’t have to think about saying something sexy, he doesn’t have to worry about if he’s doing enough, and he doesn’t have to wonder if Bro feels good. Everything he needs to know is obvious. All he has to do is move his mouth along Bro’s cock, sucking at the tip when he feels like it, or if he tastes precum in his throat.    
  
Like clockwork Bro slides a lazy hand into Dave’s soft blond hair, not so much to control his head as it is to touch him. He cards his fingers through and it’s so relaxing Dave could just close his eyes and stay here until his jaw aches. He hums around Bro, sliding down until it’s uncomfortable and swallowing around him. It had taken him a long ass time to learn how to do that, and it’s still not as polished as he’d like, but it’s worth the discomfort to hear Bro groan like he does. Dave goes down once more to deepthroat him, but shortly after his throat contracts, Bro’s hand tightens in his hair and Dave lifts up.

He looks up at Bro and doubles down, the tight circle of his lips moving quickly over the tip, his tongue working up and down. The hand in his hair clenches and stills as Bro finishes in Dave’s mouth, and the satisfaction alone has Dave coasting. Bro pulls him up and kisses him, in the way part of Dave’s brain still thinks is gross after a blowjob, but he insists on doing it every time. 

Bro resettles Dave so he’s straddling his lap. When Dave hears a click, he realises for the first time that Bro has grabbed the bottle of lube they keep in the drawer next to the bed. He flinches slightly when the cold liquid touches the sensitive skin of his cock but quickly relaxes as Bro starts jerking him off. Dave leans forward and rests his head against Bro’s shoulder, low moans spilling unbidden from his mouth as he gets lost in it.    
  
Bro’s hand moves expertly over him, twisting in the way he likes when it reaches the tip. His hand is so  _ big _ it almost makes Dave feel small, but in a way he’s kinda into. Dave’s so worked up over getting to do this again, being able to touch Bro how they haven’t in so long, that it’s not, strictly speaking, the longest he’s ever lasted when he’s shuddering and spilling over Bro’s hand. Bro doesn’t comment though, and his free hand rubs Dave’s back while they relax in a post-coital haze.    
  
“Did you...are you going to work today?” Dave asks eventually, the time and day of the week demanding answers for Bro’s presence. Bro shakes his head, and privately Dave is pleased, even though he knows the time off was most definitely caused by his stunt this morning. They move up on the bed and lay together for a while, Bro’s gentle hands lulling Dave into another nap. 

When Dave wakes, it’s to the smell of fried rice.    
  
Things are easier, after the day they spend together. They’d ended up streaming a dumb movie, and that night was the first night in months they’d managed to go to sleep together on purpose. Dave had relished the feeling of drifting off with Bro’s arm slung over his waist. It’s not something they ever have to clarify in words, but Dave fixes his work schedule for the most part after that. Except on rare occasions, he tries not to leave before Bro wakes up, and he’s always back in time for them to eat together and go to bed at the same time. He still puts in a lot of hours, but with the gallery showing coming up it’s all Dave can do to stay sane.    
  
Bro does come, of course, on the night of the showing. They stay close to each other all night, commenting on some of the other stuff there. His presence grounds Dave, keeps him from freaking out too badly about the whole thing. He still spends all night wondering if anyone will buy his shit, but he does so with a better disposition with Bro’s support.    
  
In the end, only three of his submitted works get purchased, which bums Dave out for a while, at least until someone contacts him looking for more of his work on commission. It’s new, and it’s exciting and scary, but it’s an adventure Dave goes on knowing he can always come home to his favourite person. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was created as a Stridercest secret santa fill for Christmas 2019, but I never got around to posting it. Enjoy. Or, don't, and let me know in the reviews.


End file.
